Strangers

he'd found, and she'd call us at her convenience."
        "Refused to give his name?" Father Wycazik said, puzzled.
        And you say she asked him to dig up information?"
        "Yes," Michael said. "About two things. First, this place called the Thunder Hill Depository. He says to tell her that, as far as he could determine, the Depository is what it's always been: an elaborate blastproof storage depot, one of eight virtually identical underground facilities situated across the country, and not the largest one. She also asked him to get her some background on an army officer, Colonel Leland Falkirk, who's with something called the Domestic Emergency Response Organization…
        As he stared at one glimmering and bejeweled moment of the storm framed in the terminal window, Father Wycazik listened to Michael rattle off a service biography of the colonel. Just as Stefan was beginning to sweat with the strain of remembering all the details, his curate told him none of that was important. Michael said, "Mr. X seemed to feel that only one part of Colonel Falkirk's background might have a bearing on what's happened to the people at the Tranquility Motel."
        "Mr. X?" Father Wycazik said.
        "Since he wouldn't give me his name, X will have to do."
        "Go on," Father Wycazik said.
        "Well, Mr. X believes the key fact here is that Colonel Falkirk was the military's representative to a government committee, the CISG, that undertook some important think-tank-type research starting about nine years ago. The reason Mr. X thinks the key is CISG is because, while poking around, he discovered two odd things. First, many of the same scientists who served on that committee are now - or have recently been - on long and unusual vacations, leaves of absence, or unexplained furloughs. Second, a new level of security restrictions was put on the CISG files on July eighth, two summers ago, exactly two days after Brendan and the others had trouble out there in Nevada."
        "What does CISG stand for? What was that committee studying?"
        Michael Gerrano told him.
        Father Wycazik said, "My God, I thought that might be it!"
        "You did? Father, you're hard to surprise. But this! Surely you can't have foreseen this was what lay behind Brendan's problems. And… you mean… that's really… really what might've happened out there?"
        "Could still be happening, but I must admit I can't claim to have deduced it sheerly by the application of my gigantic intellect. This is part of what Calvin Sharkle was shouting at the police just this morning, before he blew himself to smithereens."
        Michael said, "Dear God."
        Father Wycazik said, "We may be teetering on the brink of a whole new world, Michael. Are you ready for it?"
        "I… I don't know," Michael said. "Are you ready, Father?"
        "Oh, yes!" Stefan said. "Oh, yes, very ready. But the way to it might be filled with danger."
        

        
        Ginger was aware of Jack Twist's growing agitation as the minutes passed. He was operating on a hunch that told him the last few grains of sand were dribbling through the neck of the hourglass. As Jack assisted with the tasks required for their departure, he kept glancing at windows and doors, as if he expected to see hostile faces.
        They needed almost half an hour to suit up for the bitter winter night ahead, load all the guns and spare ammunition clips, and transfer the gear to the Servers' pickup and to Jack's Cherokee behind the motel. They did not work in silence, for that might have given warning of their imminent departure to the eavesdroppers. Instead, they chatted about inconsequential things as they hurried through their preparations.
        Finally, at four-ten, turning on a radio very loud, hoping to cover their absence for a while, they left by the rear door of the maintenance room. They milled around in the wind and snow, hugging one another and saying, "goodbye," and "take care of yourself," and "I'll pray for you," and,it's going to be all right," and "we'll beat the bastards." Ginger noticed that Jack and Jorja spent an especially long time together, embracing, and when he kissed Marcie and hugged her goodbye, it was as if she were his own child. It was worse than the end of a family reunion, for in spite of protestations to the contrary, the members of this family were more than half-convinced that some of them would not survive to